Master workman when will he come?

The master workman — when will he come?
Will he come wearing a collar, on this collar another's name?

The great city was beleaguered, yet its foe was its own self, a heart within its heart:
The great city was delivered, yet its walls were taken down, it was made open to the world:
Nobody reigned, nobody was afraid, the fruit off the land tasted sweet:
Men suffered but were not unhappy, death came but these men knew the secret of death:
The children lingered longer in the fields, they picked no flowers, others with equal title and love were to pass this way:
The farms were not fenced in, the doors were for the wind and rain, not for man.

The master workman — when will he come?
We crouch in the wilds of our black cities, we die of gluttony, we die of starvation,
Yet with one ear listen, listen.
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